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Join the House Concert with Jon Mosey
Have you ever attended a House Concert? House Concerts are very popular in the northeast region of the USA. Often it is an intimate setting in a home (often much larger than our condo) where you the host/hostess invite a talented performer into your home to entertain. As the hosting home, you may provide simple refreshments well charging a reasonable ticket price to attend your event; the performer must be paid. Your guests can be part of this wonderful unique performance, up close and comfortable.
Newclevelandradio.net is working to bring this entertainment format to you, and this Sunday Night we are hosting a small House Concert, and we still have tickets available. We are featuring local musician Jon Mosey (just Google his name and a list of sites will provide you not only information but YouTube videos to experience his talent.)
Tickets are $10 a single and $17 for two. If interested, please email newclevelandradio@gmail.com, and we will provide a PayPal link or additional options to make payment- as well as provide you with the home address.
The concert is scheduled for 6 pm this Sunday, March 10th, 2019. For those of you who remember to spring forward, I can guarantee the tunes of Jon Mosey will put a SPRING in your STEP!
Please join us and consider hosting a musician in your home!
Thank you Charlie for being K-Adrian-Zonneville
American Stories, a great novel set in real life situations and reminding us to take the time to live. Too many of us, myself included, are in such a hurry to get something done and move on to the next something that we don’t notice our thoughts. Our thoughts drive us to action even when that action is standing still in time. Although we may stand still time doesn’t and that is our excuse that immerses us in technology and the social media that we often mistake as life.
Charlie Wiener, thank you for being the proficient storyteller, gathering up the thoughts that run through our minds that we too often ignore
or maybe are too intimidated to express. If we speak of pain, dying, or emotional distress it is not uncommon for the ears to hear something other than the clear words we are attempting to express. However, Kim, your character in American Stories not only hears but speaks in volumes as an observer and patron of life. It may have taken her most of her life and a terminal diagnosis to become INTENTIONAL in each step forward she took until the moment of her demise.
Everyone will die, and that is a terminal diagnosis we all receive from the moment of conception. Some of us learn to live with intention leaving our spirit behind for others to experience.
Must Reads
https://www.amazon.com/American-Stories-K-Adrian-Zonneville/dp/1370499000
https://www.amazon.com/Carrie-Come-Smiling-Adrian-Zonneville/dp/1730753582
and the newest:
https://www.amazon.com/Great-Things-Novel-Mr-Zonneville
What # is Your Pain Level?
Try describing the sensation of pain! Too often we are asked the most mundane question is why are you feeling pain? Did you hurt yourself, or did someone hurt you? Is it dull, throbbing, achy, or sharp? Exactly, show the spot where your discomfort is!
Sometimes these questions can be answered easily. Most of the time whether it is a medical advisor, friend, or family member, the response to distress becomes more quizzical.
As a migraine sufferer for almost 50 years, I have been denied my feelings. I am unlike the traditional migraine individual in that I fight through my (almost daily) episodes. In my early years these attacks took me down, but my initial reaction was to always fight through it. It was like a war going on in my head, and all I wanted to do was forge through the hell hole of symptoms and find a soft light to guide me and soothe my pounding head. I learned that if you don’t look ill (whatever that means) people are skeptical and too often assume you are either a hypochondriac or just making excuses to get out of something.
The migraine headache can take on various forms, and the diagnosis becomes even more difficult when women are considered hypochondriacs when they are experiencing them. I experienced first hand over the years I have been served a cocktail of medications that rendered me a zombie, or sent home and prescribed to relax! Let me be the first to tell you it is near to impossible to relax, to think about a beautiful warm, sunny, sandy beach when the pounding and flashing in your brain is screaming, “PAIN SIGNALS,” throughout your physical and emotional body.
I have been seen by many physicians that have run SCANs, MRIs, as well as vestibular tests to identify what is happening in my internal housing. My medical team over the years has consisted of neurologists, psychologists, psychiatrist, physical therapist, gynecology (I am woman hear me roar,) as well as chiropractic. My diagnosis is stated as unexplained mixed headaches with an emphasis on migraine.
Yesterday, March 1st, the first day of the meteorological day of Spring, I had the culmination of a week of pain. Each day got worse with periods of relief, but on Friday the black cloud, flashing lights and agonizing take over of my body grew minute by minute. Medication was not touching the source, and I knew to succumb to it and laying down would not reduce it, and I had things to do. My day consisted of remaining upbeat for two podcasts as well as follow through on other business related items. I muddled through my day including some housekeeping chores, making serving as well as clean up for dinner. Even after dinner I completed one last home assignment (I make the assignments) and finally curled myself into a fetal position hoping to fall asleep.
Most of the night I slept fitfully waking every 20 to 30 minutes. Upon each awakening, I noticed I was getting little if any relief. Instead of relaxing with each deep breath I worried about the what if’s of my sense of debilitation. When 5 a.m. came upon me, I realized I was feeling more like me. I was wide awake with little no reference to the last 24 plus hours. I almost had to pinch myself to feel some painful discomfort to reassure myself this was not a dream or that I had died and gone to heaven!
This is my life! I have learned to accept what I have the ability to change and to attempt to change what I am told I have no control over. Because we never know what we are capable of and without taking a step in a positive direction we may not find where our strengths lay.
Today is a new day!
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun , here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right
It’s all right
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right
It’s all right
Happy 24 3/4 Birthdays MOMMA
Another birthday without my mother, D’VASHA, is upon us as she is not here on earth to celebrate. Being a Leap Year Baby, my mother would be celebrating 24 ¾ years-old or in reality 99! My mother had a dream to live to be 100 years-old as she wanted to be recognized by the POTUS; although she would not want it to be our current President (and I use that term lightly.)
My mother was the first generation born in the United States after her parents immigrated from the hell hole of the POGROM life in Russia. As the story goes my Baube and Zayde, and various family members ran and hid on several occasions when the Cossacks barged into their Sheitels killing whoever was not fast enough or strong enough to get out of their path. My mother’s father, my Zayde Friedman, came to the United States by ship riding steerage among hundreds of other looking for a better life. In the early 1900’s you had to be sponsored to come to America, and he was through cousins who came here before him. When Zayde came to America, he left behind my Baube Ida and their first born, my Aunt Jean. He first settled in Boston, Massachusetts and after a short time moved on to Detroit, Michigan where additional relatives helped him establish a life and a career as a tailor. Once he had enough money saved up, he traveled back to Russia to bring his family home to America. What he found upon his return was a deserted village, and in time he reunited with his wife Ida and daughter Jean, and a second daughter Ann. Zayde did not know his beloved Ida was with child when he came to America to prepare a home, can you say surprise? (Within years they became citizens of the United States.)
It would be many years later on February 29, 1920, that my mother was born she was one of seven children of which only five lived into adulthood, my mother the last one of her family living until October 11, 2016.
I was born on March 4, 1950, and although I would not be a Leap Year Baby, my momma was determined that our birthdays would be shared. For the majority of my life, we shared one birthday cake, and I became a year older several days before my official birth date. In recent years I would manage to get up to Detroit to spend our birthday together whether it was a party for her special day, on her 75th, 90th, and 95th imparticular. At her 95th birthday, my mom gave a little speech, and she reminded us, her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren as well as nieces and nephews that she was in charge because she had earned the right at 95-years-old! It was on that day she proclaimed she would live to be 100 so she could receive a proclamation from the sitting president, who would have thought?
My mother was in excellent health, who would have thought she wouldn’t live to be 100 years old? And who would have thought that our government would be in such dismal shape as we approach the year, 2020? My mother was a work of art; she was a kind caring individual; she would think about others before herself, and yet she was not perfect. If my mother liked you (loved you), you would know it, and she liked most people. However, if she didn’t like you because you scorned her or her family, she was unforgiving. She truly was a Grizzly Bear when she felt it was necessary.
My mother and I had a very tough but loving relationship. Most of my life I felt like a disappointment to her, and because of that I often misread her words and actions. However, I was lucky to learn that I was liked and loved by my momma, we shared her last weeks together expressing our thoughts while the elephant sat in the room and we never mentioned the words that identified death and dying. For me, there was no need because I knew that my mother would live on in me, my brothers, my children and theirs. We hold the DNA that provides me the opportunity to hear her voice, see her smile, and even her look of dismay that makes me sit up straight and think, how would momma like me to be today?
So today she would be 99 and a year from now that milestone 100. This morning before Alex left for work he said; we need to celebrate her life next year. She was our matriarch. She nursed my dad through years of ill health bouts and never once complained or uttered a disparaging word even when it meant turning their life upside down. My mother was empowered (and she may not have known it) but it is her strength that has provided me with the capacity to seek life and commemorate the lives of others.
Just a side note, I have learned that our current POTUS does not indulge in sending out the 100-year birthday proclamations. I guess he is too busy trying to build a wall.
House Concert March 10 6 pm
House Concert – this is your opportunity to be up close and personal with a professional musician, hosted in the comfort of a home setting with snacks to enrich your appetite. Newclevelandradio.net is hosting the first of what we hope will be many concerts. However, there is a cost, the performer must be paid!
On March 10th at 6 pm, newclevelandradio.net is hosting Jon Mosey however unless we sell 10 more seats, we will have to cancel the performance. Please do not miss out as Jon is a local professional musician bringing his talent and compassion of music to our home.
Inbox me (Karen Hale) to purchase tickets payment via Paypal or Check.
https://www.facebook.com/Jon-Mosey
NO MORE SAD – It’s ME!
Monday, February 25, 2019 today begins the end of the shortest month of the year with the promise of spring around the corner. In less than two weeks we will be back on Daylight Savings time, and the daylight will extend into the early hours of the evening. Although SAD is one of my struggles this winter, I was able to control the blue and grey mood swings that come over me. I credit that to my family and friends as well as to myself. Six years ago when the seasonal affects (https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/seasonal-affective-disorder) took me down a spiraling abyss, I confronted this disorder. I acknowledged my depression and sought help. It was due to an accumulation of events that 2013 was both my worst mental health year and my best!
When we face our demons, and we all have them, it becomes an opportunity to accept the challenges and obstacles that lay before and to use the intelligence (the thought processes) to cut through the heavy, dense fog that is pulling us down, down, down!
In the winter of 2013, I had no idea that I was empowering myself to become the person I always thought I was. Instead, when I reflected on who I wanted to be and who I was, I knew it was time for a change, and that it is never too late. Although change can be terrifying and often we (I) have used excuses such as I can’t change because I’m too old, or I don’t have the resources the answer was I couldn’t I was not ready. Taking the fork in the road in February 2013 has allowed me to be me.
Here are lyrics of I Got to Be Me, sung by Sammy Davis, Jr.
Whether I’m right or whether I’m wrong
Whether I find a place in this world or never belong
I gotta be me; I’ve gotta be me
What else can I be but what I am
supporting, training, and guiding
It’s Saturday – changing hats for a few hours. Some of us wear many from daughter to wife and mother, friend, employee, self-employed, while following the pathways that create our stories. Today I am an Intel Rep – supporting, training, and guiding. Sounds just like me!
A New Day – A New Look
A new day and a new refreshing look for the website. Life is a journey as we travel down the road and possibly take a swerve to the right or left the landscape changes. Sometimes the changes are obvious and cause us to step back and ask why other times they are not. I have chosen to make a change to the website layout to attract additional viewers as well as spice things up for those that return to newclevelandradio.net to find out what is happening! A LOT IS!
As you may have noticed, “After Further Review” has been on hiatus along with, Senior Moments and Cherished Companions. Alex and Pat are in the process of revamping “After Further Review,” I am not able to share their new visions, but as soon as we can we will make the announcement. Senior Moments should be returning in the early to late Spring months. Bradley and Heather Greene have been extremely busy as they have moved and are in the process of renovating their new home. Talk about re-inventing one’s self; this couple is amazing not just as Elder Care Professionals, but as visionaries. In April, Care Notes will be returning and Doug Wilbur, Cherished Companions, will bring together professionals providing home care when the need is required.
We are working on a new show on Cigars and Booze. Jaison Roberts is organizing his concept, cigars and booze are one of his many passions.
In addition to the current line-up and returning shows, the Empowerment Series, led by women across Northeast Ohio will be sharing their journeys while offering their hands in friendship, awareness, and acceptance. Our next meet and greet will be held on Wednesday, March 20th at 6 pm and hosted by Vista Springs, Greenbriar, in Parma, Ohio. Watch for postings on our Facebook page.
Where’s Norman? Celebrating the Life of Norman Tischler
Yesterday, February 17th, 2019 I shared in a LOVE FEST. I was celebrating the life of Norman Tischler. For some of you reading this you may not know who Norman was, and in reality, I barely knew him, but I loved him, and I cherish all that continue to love him, his partner Lynn, his grandchildren, and numerous assorted relatives, but mostly friends and fans! Last night at the Music Box Supper Club in downtown Cleveland, Ohio many of his musicians’ colleagues paid tribute to him, his music, corny jokes, and his compassion for life! If Norman Tischler said hello to you, you were/are his friend for eternity.
The music that played through the Supper Club both upstairs and down was contagiously filling the halls with such sincere gratitude that the hundreds or more of us became one as we swayed, danced, and sung to the music. The talent that graced the stage, all local, were as good if not better than what we normally refer to as the professionals. These men and women are truly honed crafted with the gift of sharing life through music, while voices sang or played a variety of songs that brought us all joy, even when we all shouted out, “Where’s Norman?”
Norman left the body of the earth four weeks ago and yet his life accomplishments live on. Although not a wealthy man in the sense of financial riches, this New York transplant to Cleveland, Ohio was rich with compassion and love. His love for music brought a sense of community to all he met. From a Vista volunteer to a Saxophonist who jammed with anyone and everyone, jumping (or walking) up on stage with his trusty Sax. As was shared last night, Norman never asked if he would be paid, fed, or thanked for his performance, he lived to give, not to get!
We all need to take a step back and like, Norman Tischler, live our lives with join and sharing that with everyone we meet. Shake hands, fist bump, hi-5, hug, and or kiss and make a valuable connection with another human being. Put your mobile device down and have a conversation, listen, learn, and “love on another, right now.”
https://www.spreaker.com/show/wheres-norman-tischler
STOP and THINK before you ASSUME!
My parents were born and raised in the early part of the 20th century. What was considered OKAY then is being interpreted today as rude, insensitive, and morally wrong. Although my parents and their friends may not have been perfect, I do not believe that they intentionally said or displayed themselves to be inappropriate or hurtful.
Halloween or costume parties was an opportunity to dress up as someone you admired or were intrigued by their character. Think about the era that they were living at the end of World War I and the beginning of World War II. In addition to the tenuous world, they were growing up in they among many found solace in movies, music, and a little bit of make-believe. They were influenced by reality as well as the comfort of play acting that helped brighten their days.
If I had not researched the roots of blackface, I would not have known the origin was the whiteface actors were mocking. “The purpose of blackface was mocking… and erasing black culture, turning it into a figment of the white imagination for entertainment,” says Prof Carr. (https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-47125474) My parent’s generation and mine as well saw the performances of actors, singers, and many musicians as entertainment, and only that. Even the precious Mickey Mouse was first portrayed in minstrel form, considering it was 1929, and our culture was different.
Our culture has evolved. However, we must be careful and understand what we may approve of today, tomorrow our children and grandchildren will find fault with and point out the things we did that may keep them from being who they want because our society has a need to find fault! Instead, of accusing, we should make an attempt to understand and become more aware of what is right or wrong? Although I do not believe in the concept, “An eye for an eye,” in early days (before you or me, and even our parents and grandparents) this was an acceptable approach in some cultures. The code of Hammurabi dates back to 1754 BC.
We are all human, and humans are not perfect. We make mistakes by choosing to do something that we may think is OKAY. We use words that in our group are acceptable, but outside of that circle may not be or interpreted in ways they were not meant. Isn’t it time we become more sensitive to the real meanings and not the assumed.
Someone will read this and scream out that I am a bleeding liberal believing we should all be allowed to do and say things in our manner. That is not what I am saying, what I am stressing is why we are so quick to punish people for what may have been acceptable when they were involved in their action. Let us learn from it and understand why our values have changed and stop throwing stones and taking an EYE for an EYE!
I remember when I was about nine years old, I repeated the N-word. I did not do so with malice, but I had heard the word used, and I knew it referred to African Americans, however when I was nine they were referred to as Black People. Tempe was a beautiful soul and African American. My family loved this woman who came to our home once a week to iron and press our clothing, as my mom worked out of the house. I used to love coming home from school and sitting in the basement with her as she lovingly ironed the most perfect creases in my father’s white shirts, and my brother’s slacks. She was an artist in getting each pleat in my skirts to lay appropriately, and her delicate touch with my mother’s clothing was precise. Tempe taught me how to iron (which I still do to this day.)
One afternoon while sitting and watching her perform her craft I called her the N-word, I don’t remember what I said, but I do remember that when my parents came home, I was reprimanded. I was told in no uncertain terms never to use that word again and that I had to apologize to Tempe. My father drove me to her house, and he walked me to the door. I remember when she opened the door her daughter, just a few years younger then I was standing behind her. The look Tempe gave me was sad, and yet her demeanor towards me was accepting. I began to cry as I apologized and told her I was just using a word I heard others use and she explained to me why it was hurtful. She explained she knew in her heart of hearts I did not intend to hurt her, but someone else may not understand if I used that term in their presence. I made a solemn oath to never call another Black person (African American) by that word ever again. We hugged and cried together, and I was stronger for her understanding and the lesson my parent’s taught me.
I would not want that one incident to come back and haunt me or my son’s or any future grandchildren that I may have. What was somewhat acceptable in some homes in the ’50s should not be society’s reason for throwing a stone today!
STOP and THINK before you ASSUME!
D5 Creation